


Runner's High

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Category: Marvel, Spiderman - Fandom, X-Men
Genre: Adult!Peter, Desperation, Love, M/M, NSFW/Consensual - Freeform, The dark side of heroism, death and destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 01:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21419806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: [Gift; NSFW] Stumbling through the remnants of the destroyed city, Spiderman feels his sanity slipping with every new blood-stained civilian he can't save. Sometimes, you have to save yourself... by seeking help from others.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/James Logan, Spiderclaw, Spiderman/Wolverine
Kudos: 13





	Runner's High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freshsalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshsalad/gifts).

> Written at speed. Cannot be stopped, must GIFT.

Half the city burned in the background, civillians and stragglers blurred as they were directed to safety by the heroes still standing. His hands made the gestures automatically, mumbling various encouragement towards the endless tide of pale, drawn faces as they flowed past.

A cluster of x-men were prepping the injured, hero and civilian alike, for emergency transport via their fancy little jet. Just glancing that way made his heart thunder violently in his chest with unspoken fear. _What if...?_

No. It was fine. _He_ was fine. _They_ were _FINE_ and _he wasn't going to think about it anymore_. 

He catches a child watching him with wide, teary eyes and grubby features that threatened to pout. Peter knelt down, "Hey little buddy, it's me, you're friendly neighbourhood Spiderman! Do you need help?"

His tone was oddly normal, cheerful and steady; _because it needed to be_. The kid shyly curls a hand into his own outstretched one, and stutters something about not being able to find her granny.

"Ah, a missing grandma? That sounds like a mission for Spiderman and _Amazing Girl_!" he says, watching the worry tease into a brittle smile for a moment as he rose."Hmmm, looks like it might be hard to find her from here... maybe we need a birds-eye view?" 

The kid's eyes sparkle, and allows him to pick her up; Peter holds onto the little whimper that threatened to ruin the facade, as the kid's heels kicked excitedly against a rather bruised bit of torso. Damn falling buildings!

Slinging the web, they swung off down the street until a clump of civilians and flashing emergency vehicles came into view. Faces turned up to see their familiar hero swing into the fray, and one in particular began to call out to the child in his arms; voice ragged with relief and the distress of someone who'd only lost sight of the child for _a second_... only to find her gone in the next. 

Covered from head to toe in his suit or not, there was no stopping the affectionate cheek-squishing from intensely grateful old ladies... so by the time Spiderman managed to extricate himself, he'd been thoroughly thanked, hugged, patted on the head and had his cheek pinched to the point where he was sure it might fall off if he yawned too hard.  With a bright wave, _what the public expected_, Peter made a show of swinging back into the chaos... and disappeared from view. A few tried valiently to follow his path with thir gaze, but Spiderman was wearing his tactical suit this evening; and the black fabric just about blended into the oncoming night. 

A few blocks away, he dropped to the roof and let his shaking legs finally collapse under him. The harsh concrete bit into his knees, but Peter didn't care...

God, the whole thing had been like something from a nightmare; no matter how many times you heard someone screaming for their life on the other side of a wall of flames... it never stopped being horrifying. It never became 'normal' or 'just another day' for him. 

And worst of all, every desperate, damaged person they freed expected a cheerful _Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman_ to put their frantic hearts at ease...

God, why couldn't he have been the _F$@#$^#% Asshole Spiderman_? Maybe then he'd be able to swear himself blue in the face, and release the desperate clawing horror, fear, anxiety and sadness that roiled within his chest. So many he couldn't save... so many who looked into his eyes for a split-second before they disappeared and stopped calling... 

By the Gods... so many... lost...

Tears pressed hotly behind his eyes, but he fought them back. They were not welcome, not while he could still do something... but what?  A howl bubbled up in his chest and exploded; an animalistic sound aimed at the sky, all fury and sound and anguish and fear. He needed to _do_ something, he needed to find someone... he needed-... _he needed-..._

Frantic footsteps were slapping up the stairwell, and a loud, "Hold on _whoever-you-are_, everything's going to be alright, stay away from the edge now!" said someone who was clearly coming to help some bereft waif of a creature howling on their roof at dinner time.

He would welcome the support, but Spidermancould not be caught like this. He had to be Strong. Friendly. Calm and Cool.

The rest of the feelings were forced down, as he hurled himself off the lip of the roof a fraction of a second before a door creaked open and footsteps spilled out. Peter clung to the wall underneath the roof lip, just out of sight...

But a wisened old face poked over anyway. He was thoroughly poked with a walking stick, as if he really was a spider being a damn nuisance in her kitchen.

"Now you listen here, my lad, I ain't going to go tellin' no tabloids about this; and I can see you don't want to talk about whatever's got all up in your spandex... but I ain't gonna letcha go anyhere until you take a few deep breaths. No one makes a yowl like that unless they've seen something bad; I should know, you shoulda seen me in the 'War lad... ah, I was under a more masculine name then, but... when you've seen the bad they can bring. Ah, does something to you. Makes you want to curse the sun out of the sky for daring to be bright when so many terrible things are happening..."

Peter slowly crawled back over the lip and sat there, transfixed by this odd little lady and her funny tangle of a conversation. It felt... safe.

"...and you, my laddie," this was underscored by a pointed poke of the walking stick to his chest and the white spider symbol there, "know what I mean, don'tcha? Ah, no need t'say it, I can tells, y'see. Now if you're takin' a few nice deep breaths and getting a better hold on that little ball of Horror and Anguish sitting in your chest... I'm going ta suggest you find someone ya trust, and howl it out in their arms. My Annie was always like that for me... and I hopes ya have someone likewise."

Peter sniffles under the mask, and it almost feels like he's not wearing it, given the look he gets. 

"I'm reckonin' that ya a mite younger than any of us think ya are, spiderlad." added the canny lady, wrinkled expression focused on his hidden face. She sighs, sagging, "Just remember that ya not unbreakable, and it's alright to feel how you're feelin'... it's human."

"...thank you." Peter manages, rising to stand, eyes passively scanning the surrounding area for a web anchor point, now the moment has passed. He looks down at the little old lady in her shawl and floppy green slippers, and crouched again. "Thank you... that helped in ways I can't even find the words for. But I have to go, I'm needed."

"Aye, you're sorely needed more than ya know, laddie-jim. But take care ta look after yaself first... or I'll be shamblin' along behind ya the rest of ya days, waitin' ta wallop some sense and self-care into ya head. Alroight?" she menaced, shaking the stick, as he tried not to laugh.

Something in the distance exploded in a flash of fire and the frantic whine of car alarms going off. Peter gave the woman a final farewell and heartfelt thanks, before swinging away. He could control the horror.

_ He could.  _

Just bunch it up into a little sphere and hide it deep down in his chest, let it wait until the world was less chaotic before it got to surface again. Just _hold on_.

_Spiderman_ was needed. His bright voice, and reputation helped to keep the Injured calm, the Trapped hopeful, and Lost children flocked to a figure they knew; even if he was wearing something darker than usual. He'd had to explain to a few kids they were his 'Spidey Pyjamas', and that went down a treat.

Peter lost track of the world around him; focusing only on the next person requiring his help. The next upturned, grime-stained face. The next outstretched hand from under something heavy. The next tearstained face. The next pool of blood congealing on the cement below...

It blurred, and his mind reeled dizzily, but he kept moving. It was what heroes _did_... they were _the help_, they were _the HOPE_; the symbol that things would be okay... even if the world was on fire and coated in blood. 

His hands shook as they lifted the final slab of rubble off of a faint, pleading voice... revealing the mangled form of a woman, curled around two smaller, unharmed forms. A frightened child and their puppy. 

"_Pl...ease... take t...hem... p-paren-...ts..._" she gasped, imploring him with her eyes to save her charges. The little boy was crying soundlessly, shocked beyond what his handful of years were able to process; and the puppy was whining, licking the tears, and trying to lick the woman who had shielded them.

"It's okay..." Spiderman breathed, sliding into the small space beside her; lightly pressing a soothing hand to her least mangled one. "It's okay, we found you. They're safe..." 

"_Th...an...k..._" the words died in her throat as the light faded from her eyes; a faint twitch against his hand as she left. He had seen that look before... had seen the relief at his prescence; had seen she was awaiting for permission to Let Go. 

He wanted, so badly, to fall to pieces and burst into tears... _this wasn't fair_... 

But there was a frightened child watching him, and a frantic puppy wiggling in those pudgy little arms... _he had to keep moving_. Quietly, he shuts her eyes, and talks gently to the boy about his puppy; eventually talking the child into his arms, and _Thought Rather Hard_ in the last direction he had seen Professor X, that he needed a telepath asap.

Jean Grey came running, flanked by Colossus, who was clearly the one rescuing the people she was finding trapped beneath them all. Peter didn't have to say anything, she could hear his thoughts; she smiled at the little boy and took him. The puppy seemed more uncertain of Colossus, but accepted a careful pat... and licked the giant metal hand in response.

Jean held the child close and soothed over the trauma for now; to give him peace while they searched for his family. Her eyes caught Peter's, and a silent offer was made... but he rejected it. There were more voices like that woman's; faint and losing hope... he had to find them... _he had to..._

"No... you don't." She says. "It hurts, but we can't save them all... and you've done more than enough, Peter. Let _us_ help now."

He feels trapped by that statement. What kind of response did she expect?

He shakes his head. No. Have to go, have to-... have to-... he can feel the thoughts being dampened, like a psychic fog was being placed over his consciousness. Peter snarled, shaking his head and snapping off a web. Had to get away, had to-...

...find _Him_. Find Logan.

Yes, that's right, he can find Logan. That must have been _his_ thought... why else would he think it?

Jean Grey quieted Colossus's protests about chasing the arachnid acrobat, stating that Peter would be well. Though not answering any further questions past that point as they strode away to find help for the child and his puppy.

~~~

Sniffing the air, sifting through the smoke for even a hint of another living being, Wolverine was a hulking silhouette amongst the flames. He moved animalistically, looking for all the world like some lumbering thing... but everyone knew how fast a tiger could move when the mood took them.

He was grumbling to himself, when a familiar scent hit him; tinged with a barrage of horror, anguish, fear and desperation. Then something physical slammed into him, before even the sharp reflexes of Wolverine could counter... _little bugger had always been fast_, after all. Flexible too.

Logan grunts as he slammed into the uneven mess of rubble below; Peter's body pressing him even further into the mess. That was gonna bruise tomorrow.  
Peter's movements were disjointed, frantic almost, as if the other couldn't decide between clinging to Logan like some sort of magnetised Koala, and forcing space between them to tear at his mask.

"_Can't breathe... fuck..._" is all the explanation needed before James is tearing the mask off and into a small rain of dark confetti. Peter gasps like he's broken the surface of the ocean after striking bottom; hands fisting in Wolverine's suit as he immediately changes tact and crashes their lips together. 

All need and desperation, bloody chapped lips and an underlying hunger... as if he wanted to meld them together from the lips down. Perhaps it was hot, but the scent of despair raining off the normally mouthy brat he loved, was sending a lot of red flags to Logan's vaguely-functioning brain.

When Peter finally jerks back for air, Wolverine sits up sharply; leaving the other straddling his lap. He runs soothing hands up and down trembling thighs; noting the pale expression, and tight grip Peter had on his costume.  His lover was exhausted, confused, and desperate for something he couldn't even begin to name. Peter swoops to crash their mouths together again, but... Logan stays him with a hand.

"Hey, talk ta me, Pete-y... tell me what I can do ta help ya?" he says, voice a low rumble that Peter often referred to as the 'Wolverine's purr' because it felt like it when he slept on the mutant's chest.

"Fuck me." 

The blunt reply knocks the breath right out of his body, and he blinks. "Now, Pete-y... that ain't gonna help ya-..." he says, seeing where the brat was coming from, but frantically trying to tell his cock to stay down._ Now wasn't the time._

Serious blue eyes bored into his own, clear and bright without warning. "James, I need you to hold me, fuck me 'til I scream... there's a ball of horrible feelings sitting inside me, and I need you to fill me with..." there was a brief pause, because even traumatised Peter would naturally consider using a dick joke in his plea. "_...light._"

Okay, his cock was definitely responding... 

"Well, if you're sure..." he breathes, wraping his arms about the long torso and kissing Peter gently. Watching a bright flush surging through pale flesh, filling the acrobatic hero with life. 

Though there was a noise of dissent.

"No, too gentle... need, uh, need-...?" Peter mumbled, fingers tightening so violently they were shaking from the effort. He pulled away from Wolverine, standing up and tearing at his suit to little success; needing to touch flesh to flesh.  Wolverine sprang to his feet and crowded Peter towards a still-standing wall; strength and claws ripping the arms free; baring chunks of bruised yet muscular torso, and shredding at the thighs...

Peter tears at James's attire with a ferociousness that practically shredded the fabric; and a single-mindedness that was as frightening as it was... arousing. Peter's desperate member throbbed under the barely-there remants of his costume; and he managed to claw Logan's thick, heavy length free with relish.

Dropping to his knees, Peter sucked the head into his mouth and pushed onwards; determined to take it all, and let Logan fuck deeply. Though the tight grip in his hair did not force him further onto the length, and instead dragged him upright again with a singing agony that was somehow... also hot, in a way the acrobat couldn't quite describe.  Warm breath gusted over his exposed flesh, before James kissed him deeply, properly this time. Burying Peter in the depth of his affection...

Peter clamped his thighs around James's compact hips, grinding their lengths together despite the restricting fabric Peter still wore. 

He was slammed roughly against the biting brick wall, and Peter cried out at the confusing, dizzying sensation of the pain mingled with the heady, deep grinding that sent thrills through his body. Pressing against him, Logan pinned Peter to the wall as his hands tore the last of the suit from around Spiderman's lower torso.

One hand roughly clamped a pert asscheek, and the other pressed two fingers against Peter's lips. "Suck." came the gruff command, and Spiderman took them into his mouth. Laving them with spit, and moaning around them in a teasing manner until James pulled the digits free with a popping sound.

Peter made a strangled moan as he felt Logan plunge them both into his ass, and he wasn't sure how to react; it stung sightly, as anything rushed tended to do, and the wall was scratching his the flesh of his spine, but it sent such a hot rush through his entire body to be manhandled like this. Subsuming and overwhelming everything that had come before, until his mind was trapped in the Here and Now, alone.

The digits plunged in and out, occasionally scissoring to stretch him, even if the spit wasn't quite enough lubricant. James was alternating kisses and bite marks across whatever flesh his mouth could reach... and Peter knew there would be no doubt about what had happened, if they were found.

_ Good. _

He felt the hot little ball of negativity pressing against his chest from the inside insistently, and dared to poke a hole in it. Redirecting the intense emotions flooding free to voice his enjoyment of the strangely rough preparation. Peter moaned and swore, begged and insulted.  Logan's expression was just as intense, but utterly latched onto his face. Watching for the right moment... waiting for some as yet unknown signal.

The fingers pulled free, and Logan spat on them, slapping at Peter's hole again as if to hastily slick the area. He spat again, and pumped his thick, aching erection; something Peter could feel pressing desperately against his asscheeks, demanding entry. 

Some precome must have slicked the shaft, but it wasn't quite enough... and yet, Peter just couldn't bring himself to care. He _needed_ to feel James buried to the hilt inside him, until his mind broke and all he could feel was pleasure, light, and the familiar flesh of his lover under his searching hands. Steady as a rock and twice as hard. Hah, he'd have to crack that particular dick joke next time.

Peter huffed in surprise as James manhandled him further, slamming him against the wall sharply, and pinning his thighs up to expose his hole to the heavy, searching head. He howled as it pressed thickly inside, lost in the confusing blend of pleasure at joining, and the burning of being overstretched...

"_O-oh fuck..._" he huffed, feeling Logan push deeper, and deeper still, just too dry to be perfect. And yet-... 

He moaned so loudly it felt like the world knew what they were doing, as James buried himself to the hilt and bit his shoulder. In retaliation, Peter yanked the man's head back by the hair and kissed him fiercely. Breaking away to bite at whatever of the man's throat and shoulder he could reach, ferociously...

James pulled back and slammed in deeply; forcing a tight cry from Peter's throat. There's a pause as Wolverine glances at him, and then spits a little more on his cock, where it utterly impaled the acrobatic hero... and slammed in again. The extra moisture made a difference... or perhaps it was the increased precome slicking the way... but it started to feel good. _Too good_.

Each ball-slapping, impaling thrust absolutely forced the breath clear out of him; and it almost felt as if the deep groans James forced from his lips were dragging some of the heavy weight in his chest with it. "_F-fuck, please, keep going..." _he begged in a broken voice.

Logan's form was tense as the thrusts grew in intensity, mercilessly driving his thick length into Peter's ass and making the arachnid see stars with every movement. His hands scrambled against the wall for leverage; but he was a passenger in this, to be used and filled with the light he'd begged for... and nothing more.

James struck his prostate dead-on with an erratic thrust, and Peter felt his whole body shudder; Logan groaned, swearing about the tight, sucking heat that clenched desperately around him. The pleasure was building in intensity, like a dam reaching breaking point...

Peter could feel his climax rising as his balls tightened, spine tingled, abdomen filled with heat and toes began to curl. He tried to warn the other, and got a series of rapid, deep and almost animalistically violent thrusts dead-on his prostate in response.

Peter screamed.

It shook the alleyway, and vibrated through his bones as he came; come spurting hotly across their conjoined bodies, and flecking the wall above lewdly as Logan continued to pump desperately. Peter's vision was falling into brightness as James continued to pump him through the orgasm, until it almost hurt...

And then Logan was sinking his teeth into Peter's shoulder and slamming deep into the arachnid, in erratic little thrusts as he came. Filling Peter's body with the sensation he craved. Of Light... and slick, wet, viscous heat that started to drip free with every flailig thrust; outlining the impaling shaft, coating Peter's ass, and running down their thighs.

Someone is kissing his throat, murmuring gentle things... and Peter finally descends again to face his lover. They kiss, sweetly, now the desperate need of before has passed... and breathe as one.  James lowers Peter's thighs and allows the other to cling to him, as the thick, now-flaccid length slips free. A rush of come gushes out as well, spattering the ground, and their flesh even further than before. 

Peter laughs, mind buzzing with nothing but the sensation of having climaxed so hard he'd practically whited-out; and the feeling of warm, safe arms around him. Grounding him.

There's quiet for a long moment, before James asks, "Are ya ready to tell me what had ya so twisted up inside, now?"

Peter exhales, feeling oddly peaceful in all this chaos and knowing it won't much longer. Reaity always found a way in...

"Yes... but at home. I can't... I can't be here anymore..."

A hand curls about his back and presses him close. "Don't worry about it Pete-y... I gotcha. I always gotcha."

"Mmmm, I know... that's why I love you..." he murmurs, holding tight.

"Love ya too, brat." the gentle response.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue:
> 
> And then the little lady with the walking stick is calling her wife over to look through the binoculars, and they both watch the nice young men work through their emotional distress.
> 
> Annie smiles at her wife, whose name spiderman never quite caught. "Oh love, I remember days like that... couldn't walk for a week after! Hoh ho ho hoh!" 
> 
> "Oh, you!" little old lady beams, swiping at her playfully. "Just you wait til I take my dentures out!"


End file.
